Posts Tagged ‘Mick Jagger’

I was in my head so much that I didn’t watch TV, never read. Playing with friends was distracting because I would rather be in my fantasy world. Who I pretended to be was a full time job. Let me introduce you to all the roles I played. It was exhausting being me.

I was Haley Mills in The Parent Trap.

I played tambourine and sometimes drums in my famous all-girl band – The Pink Pussycats. We wore pink Helanka turtlenecks, pink stretch pants and pink Courreges boots. We wore Mary Quant and Yardley makeup. Because of our sudden rise to fame, we did many glamorous magazine covers like Vogue and Seventeen.

I was all the characters in Peter Pan, my favorite being Tinkerbell. I would spend days hunting butterflies to collect the sticky stuff off their wings which would enable me to fly. This required leaving my house and the fantasy bubble I lived in.

As Shirley Temple, I sang The Good Ship Lollipop and tap-danced on the top of pianos. (more…)

I’m not exaggerating when I say I gained a person during my first pregnancy. Not an eight-pound person, a fifty-pound person. And fifty looks more like a hundred on my tiny frame. I’ll try to track down a picture to prove it.
At the time, I was often seen in the nicest restaurants sporting a leopard print Fiorucci number, a one-piece that was meant to have a big belt cinching it to show off your hot early-eighties bod. But I was dressing “for two” and looked more like a giant spotted pumpkin than the sexy dame I thought I was. Strangers laughed at me when they took in the sight. A real ego booster.
Cedars, where I gave birth, became a huge party where all my friends visited at all hours. I was one of the first of us to have a kid. Okay, Kimme, Sherry and Barbara started a bit before me, but it really seemed like I was hosting a big premiere. Think “The Wizard of Oz” and the moment she wakes from the dream, looks around the room and says to each person “…and you were there, and you were there…. “ Well, all of YOU reading this were probably there — only it wasn’t a dream.
Periodically, everyone would leave my room en masse to visit the nursery to look at my new, perfect, ten-days-late, stunning child with the Mick Jagger lips. And no, I didn’t fuck Mick — though I met him a few months after Oliver was born and told him it WAS his baby. Should I totally digress to that story? Sure, why not. (more…)